Wedding Nerves
by bananashplito
Summary: This is a little one-shot about Christine and Erik's thoughts and feelings just a few hours before their wedding. Lots of fluff! In this story, Christine chose Erik at the end of the movie instead of Raoul. Rated T just to be safe!


"How can I do this to her?" Erik moaned, collapsing onto a step and burying his masked face into his arms.

The Daroga gently placed his hand on Erik's shoulder. "It's her choice Erik. You're not forcing her."

"But perhaps she's only doing this out of pity or a sense of obligation. How could she possibly love me after all I've done?"

They were in a small side room of a little chapel, where the Daroga was supposed to be preparing Erik for the marriage ceremony in two hours' time. However, the minute the door had closed Erik had collapsed in a pitiful state of frenzied doubt and self-loathing.

"Come on, Erik, just but the suit on and then we'll talk. We don't have long left now."

Erik mumbled something incomprehensible into his arms.

The Daroga heaved an exasperated sigh and flopped down next to him. "Erik. Listen to me. I am not about to instruct you on the unfathomable depths of a woman's heart, but I know Christine is generally in love with y-"

"-but what about Raoul?!" Erik groaned, wildly throwing up his hands in despair.

"She chose YOU. Not Raoul."

"I bet she's already regretting it…" he muttered darkly.

"She will be if there is no Angel of Music waiting for her when she gets to the alter!" The Daroga exclaimed.

"But I'm a murder! A cold-blooded madman with a hideous face deformity.."

Erik suddenly went quiet. The Daroga stood and picked up a velvety black suit lined with silver and red thread, complete with matching mask, and brandished them before Erik.

Erik just stared at them dumbly. His long thin hands began twisting nervously in his lap. With a groan, the Daroga threw the suit down again and marched back to Erik. Though this behaviour was getting on his nerves, he couldn't deny it was faintly amusing seeing him this way. The murderous, fiery Phantom of the Opera, so dark and full of confidence was reduced to a pitiful state.

"What is it now, Erik?" he asked, trying to keep the impatience from his voice.

Erik was silent for a moment. Then he choked out "What about…the other thing?"

The Daroga frowned in confusion. "The other thing?"

"You know…"

"No I don't know. What are you talking about?"

"After…" Erik whispered, his enchanting voice cracking in his throat.

"After?"

Erik stared down at his lap.

Wh- Oh! _After_ …" The Daroga's brow cleared as he understood what Erik was getting at. "Well, what about it?"

Erik hid his face in his hands to hide the dark red stain flooding across his cheeks. "…obviously, I've never done it before…. what if she's disappointed? Or I actually hurt her?" his eyes widened in horror at the thought. "She's so beautiful. An angel. And I'm…a monster." he whispered.

The Daroga crossed his arms sternly. "You didn't seem lacking in any confidence in Don Juan, when you all but tried to seduce her."

"That was before I truly knew her. Before she promised to marry me and chose me over Raoul. Before I realised just how kind and pure her spirit was that she could overlook my many imperfections and even claim to love me. Now I cannot bear the thought of…forcing her to endure me."

Feeling a strange pride at the strength of Erik's love for the girl, the Daroga said very gently "She would not marry you if she felt she could not endure you. Love is love, in all its aspects. She will not be disappointed." He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Now, do you want to get married or not?"

Erik wrestled with his conscience a moment more, considering the Draroga's calm arguments over and over in his head. Finally, he simply gave way into the wave of wonder, love and pride that came from the thought of having Christine as his bride. He stood. "Yes, I do. My God, she is everything. I must be a better man for her, Daroga, that is the answer. I swear I can do it!" He hissed fiercely. "I have little to give but she must have it all…she will be happy. I'll make sure it is so-"

The Daroga triumphantly approached him with the suit once more as he projected justice to his love for Christine on the smiling ears of his lost and found friend.

Then a loud knock resonated through the room. Erik opened the door and found himself face-to-face with a man he'd hoped never to see again. The man had a very difficult request to make of Erik.

Christine twisted before the mirror to see the back of her gorgeous wedding gown. Beside her, Meg beamed with pride at her handiwork.

"It is very beautiful, Meg." Christine smiled at her friend. "You certainly have talent."

"Well," Meg said in an attempt at modesty, "It's not quite like the one the Phantom made you but…I fancy it's a little more…exciting. Besides," she added, "the groom isn't supposed to know what the bride will look like before the wedding."

At these words, Christine looked away from her reflection and felt a tumble of nervous butterflies dancing in her stomach.

"Christine? What's wrong? You do like it don't you?" Meg plucked anxiously at the creamy swirl of fabric that clung low on Christine's shoulders and poured down her slim waist.

Christine made an admirable attempt at laughter. "Of course I do! It's the most gorgeous gown I ever laid eyes on."

"Then what's the matter?"

"…It all seems so real now, Meg." She confessed, smoothing her suddenly too-warm hands down her skirt in an attempt to soothe her nerves.

Meg gasped and embraced Christine tightly. "You're not having second thoughts are you?"

"No, but...I am mad?" She asked quickly, her eyes seeking Meg's for reassurance.

Meg couldn't help but glance away. "No…I'm sure you know what you're doing."

"That means yes."

"No! No it doesn't." Meg protested. "If you love Erik then…"

Christine grasped Meg gently by the shoulders. "Please Meg," she begged desperately. "Tell me your real opinion. What should I be doing now? Should I be marrying this man? Tell me."

Meg hugged herself tightly, feeling very uncomfortable. "It's really not for me to say, and I'm by no means suggesting you are doing the wrong thing. I'll never know the extent of what has passed between the two of you …it's just that…well," she bit her lip, "Raoul was always so kind and handsome. He's rich and has a good home and title, and he loved you so much. He did so much to save you. He could look after you and make you happy, I'm sure of it. Whereas Erik…"

"…is a deformed and twisted murder who eats, sleeps and breathes music and lives deep underground beneath an ancient Opera House on the shore of a lake." finished Christine simply.

Meg nodded miserably before adding apologetically "And is arguably insane."

Christine sighed and closed her eyes. She thought of Raoul the last time she had seen him. He had been tied wet and shivering to the cold grating, a rope twisting across his throat and digging into his wounded shoulder so that the blood pooling down into the icy lake water beneath him. That blood was spilt for her. He had risked everything, been willing to die over and over. A tear slipped down her cheek as she saw the look on his loyal face when she turned from him to Erik. Betrayal, misery, despair and hurt shone from his eyes to prick her heart with icy needles.

"Raoul…" Christine whispered as she buried her face in her hands and felt hot tears splash into her palms. She began to sob.

Then she thought of the man she was to marry. She thought of the way his music drowned her soul in ecstasy. How his touch left trails of heat across her skin. When his beautiful eyes had opened after she kissed him for the first time and melted into windows to his vulnerable soul. Of the second kiss, so full of tender yet exhilarating passion. All the small and careful actions, such as running her a warm scented bath every morning and placing a single beautiful rose on her pillow every night, that showed his love and dedication. Finally, she thought of the moment when she told him she wanted him, even after he chose to set her and Raoul free, and he had stared at her for at least five minutes with his mouth wide open before a life-enhancing smile spread across his lips.

Suddenly, with a decisive nod, Christine dried her eyes and stood up. She smoothed down her gown and gazed at herself appraisingly in the mirror. "I love Erik, Meg. I know I do. I'm ready to marry him."

Meg suddenly felt her own eyes prick with tears. Throwing her arms about Christine in relief, she whispered warmly "I'm _so_ happy for you, my dearest friend."

Erik stood waiting beside a small alter clustered with simple white lilies. His suit clung to his long lean body and mask gleaming in the weak winter sunlight filtering through a high-up distant window. The Daroga was close behind him, ready with a soothing word or to every time he glanced nervously at the open door through which Christine was to enter.

Madame Giry sat primly in a nearby pew, her hair swept back neatly and hands firmly twisting a white handkerchief in her lap. Occasionally, she lifted it surreptitiously to wipe away a tear as she shot a watery glowing smile at Erik. Next to her sat another man, who was staring determinedly straight ahead.

It was a very small gathering, made up of the three invited guests - Madame Giry, Meg and the Daroga - and a rather awkward priest. It would have been smaller, just the two of them at a registry office, had Meg not intervened. She insisted on planning her friend a beautiful wedding complete with church, gown and flowers. Even Erik had been unable to dissuade her despite his glowers and threats.

Suddenly, a shadow fell across the doorway. Erik jerked and twisted toward it. The uninvited man shot to his feet.

"Raoul!" Christine cried in delight, running up the aisle and hugging him close. Raoul and Erik could only stare as they took in the creamy white gown, the loose flowing brown curls hung with jasmine, and the faint pink blush staining porcelain cheeks.

Once he'd recovered from the shock however, Erik felt a sickening twist in his stomach and a sharp pain in his heart as he saw Christine's pleasure in the presence of her friend. She seemed to have forgotten he existed.

"But what are you doing here?" she gasped in wonder. "I thought you gone forever. That I would never see you again."

Erik grasped her cold white hands in his. "I love you, Christine." He stated simply. Christine shook her head and started to speak, but he cut across her. "I love you," he repeated, "and though you do not choose me, may I not still have friendship? I wanted to be here when…" he gestured at Erik, the alter and the whole church with a wave of his hand.

"How did you know it was today?"

Meg stepped forward a little nervously. "I contacted him. I just wanted to be sure you knew which man you desire to spend the rest of your life with. I made him check with Erik, of course, before the ceremony…" she trailed off.

Christine's eyes came to rest on Erik, whose mind was already gloomily focussed on a lifetime alone without Christine. He miserably raised his head when he felt her gaze burning into his skin.

Christine was staring at him in utter amazement. "How come you let him attend? You hate Raoul and I know you believe me to still be in love with him."

"You care for him, though I do not. It's your wedding and I didn't want you to have any regrets, or to chain you to a lifetime with me when your heart belongs to another. He's your escape route." Erik explained lifelessly, bitterly regretting his decision and wishing he had killed Raoul on sight instead.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Christine suddenly shrieked at him "How dare you?" her eyes blazing with anger.

Erik stared at her in shock.

"How dare you presume," she continued furiously, "that I do not know my own mind? My own heart? How can you think I would marry a man that I did not love? I adore you Erik! But even now, on your wedding day, you doubt me. What will it take to get it through your stupid, self-pitying skull that you are the only man on this earth that could ever make me happy?!"

A broad grin had spread across Erik's face.

"What are you smiling at?" Christine snapped crossly, brushing a stray curl impatiently out of her eyes.

"I love you, Christine." he stated.

She blinked, then the anger melted from her eyes and a sweet smile tugged at her mouth. "I love you too, Erik."

"Then marry me?"

"Why do you think I'm here?" she adjusted her dress before firmly tucking her arm through Raoul's. Meg reverently picked up her train, whilst Madame Giry and the Daroga shared a smile reflecting on the silliness of youth.

Christine and Erik were ready to share a life together.

HI FOLKS! THIS IS MY FIRST PHANTOM OF THE OPERA FANFICTION AND I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT. WHETHER YOU DID OR DIDN'T, PLEASE FEEL FREE TO LEAVE A REVIEW! I DO NOT OWN PHANTOM OF THE OPERA OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS.


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